Wally clapped his hands over his eyes. They were doomed.
The brutish figure on the intercom laughed. "Haw haw haw! Guybrush Threepwood! I thought we'd seen the last of you in the Vacos wars. And what's this? A carbon missile?" Wally winced. "Speeding straight toward me!" continued the brutish figure, in mock horror. "Gosh, I hope this chaff button still works-" His arm moved downward. Then it stopped. "There are no clever moves that can help you now," said the brutish figure ominously. A finger stabbed downward.
Guybrush said, "Yes there are. You just never learned them."
The brutish figure suddenly stopped, puzzled, as the insult hit home. His arm wavered. "Ummm," he said, suddenly stuck for an appropriate retort.
The carbon missile struck. The ship exploded, in a cloud of white dust. Static on the intercom.
"Amateur," said Guybrush dismissively. He flew forward.
Wally opened his eyes. They were alive, and the type F needlefighter was space dust! What had happened?
"Let's see what cargo he was carrying," said Guybrush. He flew over the still-expanding cloud of debris, watching the scanner.
"Wow," said Wally, as Guybrush halted over a large red mass. "That was incredible! How did you do that?"
"The secret of space combat," said Guybrush, bringing Boss Hog down. "A good insult always catches your opponent off guard, and you can bring him down."
He opened the cargo doors. Tiny tractor beams pulled the red mass inside, and the doors shut again. "Interesting," said Guybrush, bringing Boss Hog up again.
Wally wasn't listening. There was a glow in his eyes. He leant forward, pressed a few buttons, and the flight yoke was in his hands.
Guybrush was about to say something then figured, Well, he knows what he's doing. Let him fly. Besides, Guybrush wanted to investigate that red object in the hold.
He stood up. The door behind them opened on a narrow metal hallway, two doors on either side, a doorway at the back, and a metal ladder leading up and down. Guybrush climbed down, into another hallway, grimed in oil. The second door on the left opened on a dark area. Guybrush hit a switch and the cargo bay area was illuminated.
It was about the size of a garage. There was a whole lot of junk in the corners, also like a garage. But right in the centre, sitting on the closed cargo doors, was an irregular reddish rock, the size of a small car.
Guybrush came forward, slowly. The rock seemed to gleam in the light, its edges sparkling with reflected light. He'd never seen anything like it. Guybrush reached for the rock. It was smooth, and slightly dusty. When he drew his hand back it was covered in red dust.
He didn't have the slightest clue what this was. But it looked valuable. Maybe very valuable.
Guybrush spent the next half hour exploring the properties of the rock. For one, it was tough. Even his most powerful equipment was unable to split it. Despite the thick coating of dust, machine sanders didn't make a dent in it. It was also, paradoxically, pretty light. Guybrush couldn't lift it, but he could push it along the floor without too much effort.
What other strange properties did this rock have? Guybrush didn't have time to investigate, because at that moment the entire ship was rocked by a laser blast.